[Night. Valortown – Rooftop, 2:08 AM]
The fog hadn't lifted for three nights straight. The moon above was pale and distant—like it didn't want to see what happened in this city after dark.
Jack Monroe stood at the edge of the rooftop, gloved hands gripping the concrete ledge. His white shirt fluttered in the breeze, black tie loose around his neck, but the golden-yellow skull mask hung from his hand instead of resting on his face. He couldn't bring himself to wear it—not yet.
"You gonna put that thing on, or just keep babysitting it like a wounded cat?"
Adam Morgan stood a few steps back, casually rolling his shoulders, his brass knuckles gleaming under the dim rooftop light.
Jack didn't answer.
Adam walked closer, his voice casual. "Still shaken up, huh? You nearly died last time, yeah… but you didn't." He shrugged. "Happens to the best of us."
Still nothing from Jack.
Adam exhaled, stretching his arms. "Well, standing there being dramatic won't kill the Hybrids. So if you're not gonna fight, at least look cool while I do the work."
Then it happened.
A scream from below.
A woman's voice—sharp, panicked, desperate.
From the alley across the street, two Class II Hybrids—canine-limbed, grotesque figures with long forearms and twisted jaws—burst into view, chasing a civilian.
"That's our cue," Adam muttered, cracking his knuckles.
He turned to Jack with a grin. "Here's how the job works, rookie. Punch. Fight. Dead. End. Easy."
Then he jumped.
Adam dropped down from the rooftop like a meteor, one hand raised above his head, the other held flat like a shield in front of it. His knuckles flared bright red-orange, heat coiling around them like a miniature sun.
As he landed—BOOM—he drove a fiery punch straight into the skull of the lead Hybrid. The impact cracked the pavement and sent molten sparks flying, the Hybrid's head caved in under the force.
Adam rose slowly from the smoldering corpse.
The second Hybrid roared, charging. Adam smirked.
"Your turn, mutt."
He lunged, launching into a flurry of devastating punches—hook, elbow, step-kick, grapple, slam—every movement flowing like fire through his muscles.
Meanwhile, Jack still stood frozen on the rooftop.
His fingers trembled as he stared down, eyes wide. He couldn't move.
He remembered the rubble.
The blood.
The pain.
His mask slipping off as he lay buried.
The silence in his ears.
"I can't… not again…"
Suddenly—
SHREEEEEKKKK!
A shrill cry echoed from behind.
Before Jack could react, something snatched him from the back, dragging him violently off the rooftop and into the sky.
A flying Hybrid—batlike, skeletal wings with rot-stained feathers—screeched as it soared upward, carrying Jack in its talons. Then, with a wet crunch, limbs burst from its sides—bladed arms, serrated and dripping with ooze, extending around Jack like scissor-wings.
Jack screamed.
"Adam!!"
But Adam was deep in combat, fists ablaze, fighting two more crawling Hybrids that had entered the alley. He didn't look up.
The bladed limbs slashed—one cut across Jack's back, another scraped his shoulder. He cried out in pain, blood trailing into the wind.
Then the Hybrid let him go.
He was falling.
Spinning through the air, gravity pulling hard.
His mind screamed—
"I don't wanna die again—"
Then it happened.
A golden glow lit up beneath his eyes.
Paint-like light traced across his cheeks, forming a sharp skeletal line.
The Golden Skull mask snapped onto his face, pieces locking in like clockwork.
His black hair turned bright blonde, glowing faintly. His eyes—once panicked—were now sharp, focused, and burning gold with purpose.
Still falling, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheap black pen.
The pen pulsed once—then transformed into a small curved dagger, jagged and sharp, rimmed with golden aura.
With calm precision, Jack hurled it upward.
The dagger spun fast—and stabbed directly into the flying Hybrid's lower torso.
In the same instant—
Jack vanished mid-air.
He teleported with a golden streak and reappeared mid-flight—above the Hybrid—his hand already grabbing two of its bladed limbs mid-spin.
His voice came out cold, steady, deep—nothing like before.
"You picked the wrong night."